


The Years Before

by Fabrisse



Series: Rebuilding the Table [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Merlin backstory.  The first chapter is a lot of early life fill in.  The next chapter or two will be how he got to be who we saw on the screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a batch dump of Merlin headcanon, basically. This tale comes very, very much before the movie or the rest of the stories.

The shipyards had nearly disappeared from Glasgow when he was a lad. One of his earliest memories of his father was him coming home from spending his day on a picket line. The owners weren't paying a living wage. He didn't even know what the words meant, then, but he remembers his father seeing him and picking him up, speaking softly in Gaelic.

His Da had played chess with him, taught him the basics of snooker when he could barely see over the table, spoken Gaelic with him and his little sister, made certain he knew to stand up for himself and his beliefs, and, unlike some of the men in their very rough neighborhood, gone to church every Sunday with his family, sometimes even reading the lesson.

By the time he was eight, the shipbuilders were fighting to keep the industry going -- no longer striking, but working to fill the orders, to prove the shipyards should stay in Glasgow. He could hear the whistles, like the bells in his school, regulating the days, the shifts, the meals. And then there was the day when a new whistle sounded, when his teacher had stopped speaking and looked out the window in alarm before calmly starting over from the beginning of the paragraph.

His Mam had come to get him and together they went to Laire's classroom with the youngest children and they'd walked home together to meet the men from Da's shift carrying home his body. 

Mam hardened that day. 

She'd gone on a typing course and learned shorthand to find a job. She worked for the shipyards, too, as a secretary to one of the accounting managers. He taught her enough bookkeeping that she could get other jobs, better paying ones, later -- away from the factory where her husband had died.

The months while she was on that course had been the hardest. She'd used their savings for rent and her school fees. Food at home was very basic, and it was years before he realized that his and Laire's school mates had made certain they'd had tea at least three times a week while Mam was learning her skills. It was just the way a working class community came together then. And he knew in his bones there'd have been no help at all, after the first couple of weeks, if Mam hadn't been fighting her way out and up from her man's death.

The church helped, too. He wondered how much of that basic food was provided by the congregation. When his Sunday school teacher took Mam aside one Sunday, he'd been afraid he'd done wrong. Mam was quiet with him for nearly a week, but on Friday, had sat down with him and told him about some exams that would be coming up in May. His Sunday school teacher wanted to tutor him, and the congregation would pay the expenses to travel to and from the exams and the cost of the exams themselves. If he passed, he'd go to boarding school in the north, near the Moray Firth, on a scholarship.

He could see the shape of the question that hung unspoken. He could say that he didn't think he could do it, and probably be working by the time he was sixteen. He could try. If he didn't succeed, they'd be no worse off, but everyone would know that he hadn't been good enough. So he had to say, "I'll work hard, Mam," and work like the devil himself was in pursuit. Because he couldn't fail, not his Mam and sister, not the congregation who were putting their hard earned pence into a special collection for him to go to the exams, not the teachers who were drilling him. This scholarship would let Mam buy more food for herself and Laire. It would help her earnings go farther, and, one day, it might mean he could support them.

Hamish McKnight had to win it.

***  
The first week at the junior school was surreal. The older students told him it was easier for the young ones coming in -- the showers were no longer cold -- but there was still a half mile run and the first lesson of the day before breakfast. Every day had quiet periods set aside in addition to the study times, and there were all sorts of outdoor activities, which, for a boy from Glasgow, were baffling. Orienteering turned out to be the one he excelled in. He took the wilderness skills and navigation skills, too.

Two years after he started, he was maintaining his scholarship easily. The other six boys in his room knew better than to bother him when he was studying, and, in return, he helped each of them with their worst class. 

At thirteen, he went into the upper school still on full scholarship, and worked harder than ever. He applied to join the school's Coast Guard Rescue group and also participated in the mountain rescue. At fifteen, he asked to speak to the head of school and requested permission to take both the first set of A-levels and Highers within the year.

"Hamish, you could be a guardian here if you stayed through the normal course of study."

"Sir, I'm getting bored. It's that simple. I'm ahead of most of my year. I'm ahead of some of the year twelves. Do you really think staying serves me best?"

The head of school stared him down. "Straight to University, I suppose?"

"No, sir. My family needs me earning."

"Hamish, if that's your worry, we can help you get university scholarships at the right time. You're brilliant. We both know that."

He glanced at the head's desk. "Yes, sir, I am aware. I… Have my own plans. University will be part of them, but not right away."

"You're given leave to take both A-levels and Highers this year. If you don't pass, it will have no effect on your scholarship, so long as your grades remain up to your usual standards. If you do, obviously, you will be a year thirteen and complete the second set of A-level exams."

He nodded. "I'll pass, sir."

Most of his fellow students sat four A-levels. He sat six: Mathematics, Critical Thinking, German, French, English Literature, and Psychology. He passed all, but Psychology with an A and he still managed a B in that one. 

His year thirteen was murder. He was two years younger, had the highest grades in the school, and was continuing to study for six subjects. Only the Orienteering team and Coast Guard group held any friends. Still, just before his seventeenth birthday, he found that he had A grades on all six of his A-levels. 

He promptly enlisted in the Royal Marines.

***  
The looks he'd gotten on his first day of recruit training ranged from disbelief to pity. By the end of the first week, he was at the top of the scores for all physical training. By the end of the first month, he also led his group in weapons training. When he completed his thirty-second week and earned his beret, he led all standings and officially entered the service with the King's Badge on his left shoulder.

His fellow Marines trusted him in the field, but he knew they didn't much like him. He was still teetotal, not because he objected to alcohol, but because lime and soda cost under a pound at the pub and a pint cost a lot more. His paycheck was cut into thirds. One went to his Mum with a request to put it aside for Laire's schooling. One third went directly into savings, and he swore he wouldn't touch the account for anything less than nuclear war. It was his university fund. The other third was what he used for simple supplies.

For most of the next two years, he remained at the top of his group -- no matter what group they threw him into. He made sergeant in early 1982 and was part of 42 Commando. In April, they were sent to the Falklands. He was mentioned in dispatches for his work at Mount Kent and received a Military Medal for his role in the battle of Mount Harriet. When they finally left in mid-September to return to the UK, he requested a meeting with his commanding officer.

"So, Sergeant McKnight, what can I do for you?"

He stood at parade rest and said, "I'd like to submit my twelve month notice for leaving the service, sir."

"Nonsense, you have a brilliant career ahead of you. Good God, man, you got a medal. We're not like the Americans, you know, giving them out for filing our nails correctly. It was earned."

"Yes, sir. It was. I would like to repeat my request to submit my twelve month notice, sir."

The officer fiddled with the papers on his desk and picked up McKnight's file. "Six A-levels?"

"Yes, sir."

"We could send you to officer training. You obviously have the ability and the intelligence." He looked at the young NCO standing in front of him. 

"Yes, sir. I would like to request permission to submit my twelve month notice."

"McKnight. Sergeant. What can civilian life offer you? As an officer in the Royal Marines, you'd have respect. Based on this, I could see you working in intelligence in conjunction with MI-5. You have only to say the word, and I'll fill out the paperwork, Sergeant."

"Permission to ask a question, sir?"

"Granted."

"Sir, would the Royal Marines send me to university as part of my officer's training? I don't mean immediately, obviously, but in the not too distant future, would that be possible, sir?"

"Probably not. Possibly, though. We have at least three weeks on this damned ship. Give me that long to make the enquiry, please, Sergeant."

"Sir. If you were to find out that it's not possible, would you please date my request from today?"

The young man looked at him for a long time. "Yes, Sergeant McKnight. I will have your answer by the time we land and the paperwork for you to leave the service, should you not like the answer, dated from today."

"Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed, Sergeant."

An hour before landing, Sergeant McKnight signed his formal request to leave the Royal Marines. Lieutenant Hart thought his superiors were making a mistake.

***  
In May of 1985, Hamish McKnight graduated with a first in Mathematics from Christ's College, Cambridge. His doctoral program was lined up, due to begin in Edinburgh in January. For the first time in his life, he was free to travel where he wanted to go. He thought he'd start with Switzerland, and let the whim take him from there. 

As he crossed toward the Master's Lodge, to leave college, a gentleman in a well-tailored suit, leaning on an umbrella stopped him. "Hamish McKnight?"

He looked closely and said, "Lieutenant Hart, I believe."

"I resigned my commission soon after you left the service."

"Mister Hart."

"Please, call me Harry. Are you in a hurry to catch your train?"

"I can take a later one."

Harry smiled. "Then let me take you for a meal and make you… not a job offer, but a chance to interview for a job I think you'd like."

He thought for a long moment. For the first time in his life, he was free of obligations, free to figure out his life on his own terms. "I'd be delighted to listen, Harry."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish McKnight's training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Merlin in this story is not our man; McKnight is.

Merlin looked the proposals over and sighed. At least two of them were Sloane Rangers who would probably be knocked out by the end of the week because they couldn't live without champagne. He assumed Tristan and Caradoc owed their fathers favors, because otherwise he'd have to believe they were serious choices. Arthur's candidate, Cavendish, was interesting -- second son of an Earl, Oxford educated, Olympic fencer. Most of the others were military, Army officers except for Beaumains' proposal, whose family had been Royal Navy since Admiral Vernon and the War of Jenkins' Ear, and Galahad's who was Royal Marines, and not an officer. McKnight was also the only with a medal, per his file. Merlin put him, mentally, as probable top five, but unlikely to make it to the final two. 

The first couple of weeks saw both the Hooray Henries out purely for their inability to run five miles in a full pack. They hadn't even gotten to the real obstacle courses. McKnight got a certain amount of teasing for his accent -- all the others were not just English, but Home County people -- but he quickly got respect for his physical prowess. Merlin had the feeling if they told him to swim Loch Ness in full pack, he'd not only do it, he'd set a record.

McKnight's major downside was social. He wasn't particularly inclined to be part of a group, and, while his years at Cambridge had polished him a little, he was still not at ease with wines and exotic food. He hadn't reacted to the teasing he'd gotten when he picked the Border Terrier bitch from the puppies. He just said that it was good to see a Scottish face and promptly named her Selkie.

He was also, Merlin suspected, not terribly interested in women. Honey traps weren't a frequent weapon in the Kingsman arsenal, but they were occasionally necessary. Mind you, at least a couple of the traps they'd needed to set recently had been for homosexuals, so that aspect might turn out to be an asset.

He contemplated the order of the tests and decided that hand combat and silent killing would be next followed by firearms. Most of this group would pass them handily, and afterward, they could get down to the tests that would begin the real winnowing.

***   
Every member of the candidate pool was working four hours a day for one department or another. Merlin had announced that seduction classes would begin in two weeks and that the candidates were allowed to seduce anyone they fancied of either sex. There had been a couple of lewd jokes about gay boys mincing through training, but McKnight had just smiled enigmatically.

The first two reports he got on McKnight were from a young lady from Cornwall who'd just started working in the translation department who said that he was very sweet and thoughtful in bed and from a forty year old who worked in logistics who said she liked a man with a sense of humor. The next ten were from men, including two who swore they'd never done anything with a man before, but that McKnight just… seemed like a good idea at the time. Since they were smiling when they said it, Merlin had no worries about them having a psychological reaction to the experience. 

On the final day, three more reported to him about McKnight, two women, who'd apparently decided to seduce _him_ into a threesome, and Harry Hart who said, "I had no idea the man was gay, but he's very, very attentive in bed." Since Hart held the record for most women seduced during the unofficial competition, and since Hart -- who as far as Merlin had previously discovered had no shame -- was blushing very prettily as he said it, Merlin accepted the report as an evaluation by an expert.

As always, most of the recruits wanted to know who had "won" the competition.

Merlin said, "Well, we're more interested in if you can please a partner well enough to be a good distraction, especially if it's a long term assignment. Mister McKnight had the highest satisfaction scores with all his partners."

"Yah, but how many did he actually manage? A Scottish prig probably lost his virginity and had one girl, if that," Cavendish said.

Merlin glanced at McKnight, who shrugged and went back to reading his book. He said, "Four women total. However, two of them shared the bed with him at once, so I tend to rate that a bit higher, especially as none of you managed it."

"Ha," said Cavendish, "I still managed seven in total."

Merlin nodded, "Yes, yes, you did. Seven women. Which is the most women of anyone. Only three of you made any attempts with men."

"Really? Some of the boys tried buggery? Do tell us who won," Cavendish leaned back in his chair looking bland.

"Yes. Three out of the seven of you actually took my words to heart and tried seducing both sexes."

"And who won?"

"McKnight. Fifteen people in two weeks, all of whom were very happy to have made his acquaintance."

Cavendish looked at McKnight and hissed, "You're a poof? You've been sharing our showers staring at our privates?"

McKnight placed his bookmark and stilled his dog before looking at Cavendish. "Private is about as high a rank as I'd give any of you. Your cocks don't even make it to corporal."

Two of the other candidates kept Cavendish from going after him. 

He added in his soft brogue, "I'm homosexual. I don't sleep with married people. I don't go after anyone who isn't interested. And, Cavendish, _you're_ completely safe, because I would never go after anyone who isn't interesting either."

"Cavendish, sit back down before I have you run the obstacle course in the dark. You're supposed to be a team as much as rivals. Going after another candidate is both foolish and counterproductive. And McKnight…" He thought he was going to say something like "stop bating him," but what came out instead was, "Very well done."

"Thank you, Merlin." McKnight reopened his book and went back to reading.

He turned back to the room. "Tomorrow morning, you'll be swimming with full pack before breakfast, courtesy of Cavendish."

***   
Two more had washed out during the next two weeks; one because he couldn't keep a straight face in the seduction lectures and one failed the orienteering test. McKnight had been dropped with no money on the Isle of Man. He made it back to headquarters in two days, well within his ninety-six hour limit. All of the others had actually been dropped somewhere in Great Britain, but the one who'd been dropped near Stonehenge with £20 in his pack, was the one who failed.

Merlin looked them over. Cavendish would probably be the next out. He was chafing at the discipline and being ruder and ruder to his cohort. He was pretty certain if he asked the others to vote someone out, Cavendish would be in the next taxi home. There were intelligence and psychological tests to complete -- etiquette and test runs on observation and information extraction. 

That was another area where McKnight had surprised everyone. Not only had he successfully made his own delivery run, with no one spotting him until the delivery had been made, he had extracted information from University of London by running some sort of query on its computers without talking to a single person. The data -- in full, not just the extracts each person was required to get -- had been presented to Merlin within two hours of the exercise starting. When he was asked, McKnight just said, "I used a gopher. And you might want better security on our computer system."

All of the final three passed the railroad tracks test. McKnight had remained perfectly calm throughout even managing to keep his eyes open as the train barreled down on him. He was laughing when they pulled him out of the hole. "I thought there was a second track above my head. This is much more elegant," he said.

When it was down to the final two, Royal Navy and Royal Marines, Merlin noted, their sponsors called each of them in. Galahad took Beaumains' candidate and Beaumains got McKnight.

From where Merlin was hidden, watching the two rooms, he saw McKnight walk into his and immediately register the plastic on the floor. He motioned for his dog to halt before she stepped onto it and stood at parade rest.

Beaumains held up a gun, butt toward McKnight, and said, "This weapon is live."

"If I take it from you, sir, it's not the dog we'll need the plastic sheeting for."

"Are you threatening me?"

McKnight said, "I'm stating a fact. If the best we can do is copy the Nazis, I want no part of it." He made a perfect military half turn and said, "Heel, Selkie." There was a sound of a shot from another room. McKnight stopped at the door and said, "Blanks. I see."

***   
Hamish McKnight was in Edinburgh in time for his first lecture. Kingsman had been an interesting and enlightening experience, but now it was time for his real life. He took out his notebooks and began the work for his doctorate in pure mathematics.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed.

"Doctor McKnight."

He stopped on hearing his name and turned toward the voice. "Harry Hart? How did you know I'd been awarded my doctorate? I only found out yesterday myself."

Harry smirked. "You know we have our ways."

"You do indeed. Is this a social call? As you can see…" He pointed to the duffel over his shoulder.

"Heading out for exotic adventures?"

"Hardly. Home to Glasgow. My sister's getting married on Saturday. Don't know why they want me on the Wednesday."

"What time's your train?"

McKnight smiled. "I can always take a later one."

"Then may I invite you to tea? I'm staying at the Balmoral."

"I know a student bistro near the Royal Mile that does a marvelous cheese toast."

Harry laughed. "Tea's my treat. If you're not still teetotal, I'll get us drinks to toast your success."

He thought for a long moment. "Tea sounds lovely. And so does a whisky."

***   
They'd talked a lot over tea, mostly about general things, but Harry had been surprisingly open about his travels, even if he didn't always mention why he'd gone to those places. After tea, they headed to the whisky bar and ordered single malts. It was early enough not to be crowded and Harry found a corner where they could watch the street outside and not be overheard.

McKnight smiled at him. "Why are you here, Harry? Even if a new candidate is needed for the table, I doubt they'd let me back in."

Harry shrugged. "You'd be surprised, although, yes, you're not Arthur's favorite former recruit."

"Which doesn't answer my question."

"Merlin's retiring. When Arthur asked him for recommendations - and he asked the department heads who report to Merlin as well -- your name headed the list. It showed up on all four lists, though only Merlin had you at the very top."

"And how many other names showed up on all four lists?"

Harry took a sip of his scotch. "Just yours. That… gopher? you used to find information impressed our technology department. You apparently did very well when you worked logistics, which makes sense, I suppose with maths. And even Bonn was impressed with your analysis of the role of West Germany vis-à-vis the Iron Curtain."

McKnight said, "I'm not certain that last one was terribly sophisticated work."

"Sophisticated or not, it changed some of our priorities regarding East Germany."

"And does the interview process involve hanging me over a vat of piranhas or proving the existence of Nessie?"

Harry chuckled. "You're allowed to work on the latter in your spare time. Frankly, piranhas are too expensive these days."

McKnight's laugh matched his. "I know there must be more to the process than just asking if I'm interested."

"Merlin works with every agent at the table. As with Arthur, we vote. Unlike Arthur, we aren't presented with multiple candidates. If one doesn't get a majority vote, then the next person on the list goes through the process."

"So, I'm the only one on all four lists. Why am I not the first person interviewing?"

Harry nearly choked on his whisky. "How did you know that?"

McKnight just quirked an eyebrow at him. 

"There was one person who made three lists, not Merlin's, but the other three Nimue, Morgan, and the Lady, an internal candidate. He was interviewed first. You're second. I'm fairly certain Arthur will vote against you. Beaumains might as well since you threatened to shoot him. You'll have a month and a credit card for expenses to meet with every member of the table."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Why is Merlin retiring? He didn't seem that old."

"He's not. He doesn't feel that he handles the training process well. He also sees that computer threats are coming. People actually have computers at home for projects now. Small things, but as there are more and more of them and this internet you sent the gopher down gets to attach to more of them, he thinks we may start to see a different type of terrorism. You might be able to handle that better than he can."

"Since I'm one of those people who actually has a computer at my apartment, I do understand both aspects of what he's saying. He's not wrong, though, I think the internet will remain mostly the purview of colleges and universities." He paused for a long moment. "At the risk of being less than gentlemanly, what's the pay?"

Harry named a figure. "In addition, you can purchase a flat. We'll provide the down payment; you cover the rest of the mortgage. We have private insurance in addition to National Health and you can add your mother and sister to the coverage. I mean, we don't exactly have a perk package put together. Is there something you want?"

"I want to complete my second Ph.D., frankly. My thesis and translation have been accepted, so I'm just waiting for my defense."

"Can't you live in London and come back for your thesis defense?"

McKnight said, "No. There's a residency requirement. I can visit anywhere I want for a couple of weeks at a time, but I can't change my residence or live elsewhere full time."

"How quickly do you think this process could be completed?"

"Could? Next week, if that's when they put me on the defense schedule. The most likely times are either toward the end of Trinity or near the beginning of Michaelmas Term."

"That's four months away!"

"Yes, I'd say four months is the absolute minimum and a year the maximum."

"Who does the scheduling?"

"My thesis advisor in conjunction with my examination team.

Harry nodded. "Could you defend it now, if necessary?"

"Certainly."

There was a long pause. "Interview with us," Harry said. "Take the month we're offering you to meet the other knights and see more of the world than the Falklands."

McKnight smiled. "Be fair. I was also assigned to Norway, briefly." He added, "When would you need an answer from me?"

"Ideally, by tomorrow, but I can probably convince them to give you until Monday, what with your sister's wedding."

He nodded to himself. 

Harry said, "Do you have to leave tonight?"

McKnight met his gaze frankly. "What are you offering and why?"

"I'd like you to stay with me tonight. The why is simple. I enjoyed our time together before, and I genuinely like you."

He looked Harry over. "So you're saying you're not one of the perks?"

"No. I am saying I wouldn't be averse to more with you, occasionally."

McKnight nodded. "May I call my mother from your room?"

***   
By the time McKnight was on a train to Glasgow the following day, he'd accepted the interview to become Merlin. He asked that his month begin the following Monday, which Harry had been able to arrange.

He spent the time when he wasn't involved with the wedding putting together sets of questions for the knights, his potential subordinates, and himself. 

A month later, he had seen more of the world than he'd thought possible. He came into the dining room, where most of their meetings took place. 

Arthur looked him over and said, "Welcome to Kingsman, Merlin."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's first months working for Kingsman.

Two days after his acceptance by the Table, he was informed that his thesis defense for German would be held the following week. It was his first time seeing the full reach of Kingsman, but it wouldn't be the last.

***  
He'd had one month of overlap with the former Merlin before taking the designation himself. When he was a candidate, he'd spent time in each of the three major departments and had gotten to know some of the more junior people quite well. A few of them were no longer quite so junior, which was good to know. 

Merlin spent the first month on his own reading deeply into the major operations for the previous three years. He debated whether to do it chronologically or by type of operation when his secretary pointed out that the records were actually stored by the agent's code name. He'd read the files by agent. In the meantime, he was also taking shifts one day a week in each of the departments covered by the Logistics Division, and at the end of the month, he requested a private meeting with the Lady of the Lake. 

"Good morning, Lady."

"Morning, Merlin, and please, call me Ron. It's bad enough that some of the knights insist on using her when they refer to me by codename."

"I rather like Merlin, but I can see chafing a bit at being called Lady."

Ron took the seat he was motioned to and said, "Since I recognized you on the day you were Arthur's driver, I kept tabs. What did you find in my division?"

"Nothing to worry you. Your shift managers are all exceedingly competent. Those on the lower rungs feel they have a way to move up in the organization if they want to. No one's complaining about pay and very few are complaining about hours which I put down to our being overstaffed." He held up his hand. "I think the overstaffing is a good thing: less chance of burnout for the workers, less chance of mistakes due to fatigue potentially endangering missions or lives. It's a good shop."

"I feel like another shoe is going to drop."

"It is," Merlin said, "but it's not a particularly heavy one." He slid a sheet of paper over to Ron and let him look it over.

"This top suggestion is excellent."

"I agree. It isn't mine, by the way; it comes from Kenny Dryden who works in the driver's section. As a matter of fact, only the last of those five suggestions is mine."

Ron kept reading. "The third one is too expensive."

"Does that mean you've requested it before or that you dismissed it before?"

"Requested. Your predecessor said no."

Merlin said, "I plan to take it to the table at next week's meeting. The initial outlay may be high, but the savings over the next several years is also very high."

"I'll be interested to hear the result."

Merlin leaned back in his chair. "Now for the difficult bit. Is there anyone being groomed to take the department head roles? Anyone being groomed to take your role?"

"I take it this is a hypothetical. I don't know you well, but I think you'd have been straightforward if you no longer wanted me to work for Kingsman."

"Your role is safe for as long as you want it. Having said that, anyone can be hit by a bus. Conventional organizations can take the time to send out job announcements, fill in the position when they're ready. Kingsman can't. If you do have people, let me know who they are and which position you could see them stepping into. I'll get their personnel files and review the choices."

Ron nodded. "You're right that we should have people trained. We don't. Having said that, there's one woman, been here since 68, she's not a department head, but she can fill in most of the senior roles easily. She has a phenomenal memory."

"Her name?"

"Myfanwy Rhys. You should talk to her. You'll learn things."

"Thank you, Ron, I will." Merlin made a note. "Please get me the other suggestions by next Monday. Now, back to the suggestions, I'd like to put a suggestion box in most of the work areas. Anyone can drop a suggestion in, anonymously if they'd like, about how to improve the efficiency or safety of their area. If they choose to sign their names and the suggestion is adopted, then a bonus would come in their next paychecks."

"How much? Because if it's too little, no one will make a suggestion. They'd be afraid that it's just us trying to see who the troublemakers might be."

"I was thinking £100."

Ron said, "Yes, that'll be enough for them to take it seriously."

"Good. The men who made the top two suggestions will be getting their bonus in the next pay packet. Number three is an old idea rather than a new one, and I don't think we can implement number four at the moment."

"You really have all of this in hand. You know I suggested you for this job?"

"Apparently several people did."

Ron said, "Yes, but we were all nervous about your age and the fact your experience is either military or academic. I think we picked far better than we realized."

"Thank you, Ron." He stood and shook the man's hand to end the meeting.

***  
The second month had him continuing to review past missions, running comms for a couple of missions -- and he really wished he had a much faster way to interface with the agents -- as well as holding meetings with various combinations of people in the research and development division.

At the end of it, he called in Nimue for a personal meeting. Merlin was surprised to be greeted by Nimue handing him a small sheaf of papers.

"My list of back-up people."

Merlin motioned him to sit down. "I take Ron spoke to you. Do you prefer your codename or real name?"

He said, "I _like_ my real name. At work, I use my codename."

"Fair enough."

Nimue said, "So, I suppose you want the geezers gone, hire some kids to come in to the department."

"No. I want the older gentlemen to stay on for as long as they want. They have institutional memory as well as very clever brains. Doctor Hubbard's been working here since just after the war, I believe. Why would I want him put out to pasture?"

The other man sighed in relief. "Some of the newer recruits -- not all of them -- have been harping on about doing things new and different. I just thought…"

"Since I'm about their age?"

"Younger than some of them."

Merlin nodded. "What I want from your department is two-fold. First, I want you to hire nine more people. Two of them are going to be the ones training non-tech people on computers and taking care of the machines when they go down. I've already put in the requisition for air conditioning at this level so that we can manage to have more computers. Five will be programmers, and some of them, at least for the first year, will not be working in your department. They'll be helping me design and create the database we need. The second thing I want is a weekly meeting, take an entire afternoon for it, for blue-sky thinking. If someone thinks we can build a gadget from the latest Bond film, and it has a practical purpose, then we'll try it."

"What kinds of things are you talking about?"

"I'd love to have a way to know what the knights are seeing in the field. Maybe even be able to store it and play it back. The level of miniaturization required just isn't there yet, but maybe we can create it."

"That's seven," Nimue said. 

"The other two are going to work with the geezers as you call them. They'll be practical workers, but with computers. They'll need to learn how to do old fashioned mechanical work, too. And it might inspire the current ones to start thinking about what computers, electronics in general, can do for us."

"It would be a very large expenditure."

"It will be. I've already presented the request to Arthur and the Table voted in favor."

"That's…"

Merlin said, "I'd also like you to do me a favor. Interview my secretary Vivienne for one of the programmer jobs."

"She's barely eighteen."

"Which has got what to do with her intelligence or capability?"

Nimue said, "Can't guarantee she'd get the position."

"Of course not, but at least two of those five programming positions are going to be for junior programmers. She's taught herself Database III+. I've reviewed some of her work. I believe she has the mind for it. And that's the last I'll say of it. I'll either get a transfer request from you or I won't."

"We don't exactly have a lot of women in positions at Kingsman."

Merlin said, "I noticed. The old boy network is having a hard time letting in women -- or even a ship builder's son. Let's see if we can change it."

"Have the girl call my secretary to schedule an interview for Monday."

"Thank you, Nimue, I will."

***  
When Morgan showed up for his appointment, Merlin was just getting back to the office. Merlin had spent most of the previous month reviewing the training process and helping with German translations in the analysis area. He spoke to most of the translators individually at one point or another during the month before he made the appointment.

"Morgan, please sit down. I'm sorry I wasn't already here to greet you. Do you prefer name or codename?"

"Either's fine."

Merlin leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. "I am an excellent linguist -- at least for German -- but my ability to analyze intelligence, prioritize regional importance is probably not much better than your most junior analyst. It's the piece of this job where I'll need the most help."

Morgan leaned back and said, expansively, "Good that you recognize it, my boy. Be glad to help you learn the ropes."

"Knowing this about myself, I was shocked when Galahad told me that a minor piece of analysis I'd written while I was a candidate had change the intelligence priorities vis-à-vis East Germany."

"Got lucky. Luck is a good thing to have on your side."

"No, it wasn't lucky. I've spent a good deal of this past month reading analysis reports and then tracking down the original intelligence sources. I concentrated on Germany and Austria since that's my language. I was appalled by what I found. I then did the same exercise with the most recent French language intelligence and uncovered the same lack."

"I find that hard to believe Hamilton and Bunthorne are excellent linguists. Their analysis is first rate."

Merlin looked at the man closely. "No, they aren't, and no, it isn't. The reason I was so appalled by the German intelligence is that I found a gloss by the original translator with a recommendation for action attached. That recommendation was not heeded, nor was it included in the final report. Therefore, a memo has gone out to your department that all final reports are to include the original translations and any relevant notes for the foreseeable future."

Morgan was looking apoplectic. "Dammit, boy, you have no right to send out a memo like that without consulting me. I'm the bloody department head."

"I'm Merlin. I have both the right and the authority. And you seem to be laboring under a misapprehension. You are not the department head. Arthur concurred when I brought the evidence to him. You're fired. Some of your senior analysts are being walked out as we speak. I reviewed your hiring decisions, you know. You've turned down women or people whose parents were immigrants consistently since you've been in charge of the division. I'm talking about people with starred firsts from Oxbridge colleges being denied positions in favor of the sons of men you know from Boodles or White's."

Morgan snorted. "You can't believe that some chit of a girl would be able to handle this type of analysis. And why would I trust a wog?"

"Because he or she is probably a native speaker of the language we're concerned with?"

"Bah! I should never have put your name on my list."

Merlin said, "Why did you?"

"The others thought you had brains, and I figured a scholarship boy -- a sergeant, not even an officer -- would know his place. I can't believe Arthur agreed to let me go."

"I see. So that piece of intelligence which Tristan acted on based upon your department's analysis -- which had an earlier and more correct interpretation ignored because it happened to come from a young Indian woman whose native language it was -- had your imprimatur because you don't trust women or immigrants and you thought you had a biddable Merlin."

Morgan said, "I stand by that analysis, and I'll be contacting Arthur myself about this travesty."

"Please feel free. You can use that phone. It connects directly to Arthur's office at the tailor's shop. But you should know before you pick up the receiver that Tristan is dead. It is my firm belief that he would at least have had a shot at getting out of the situation alive if you'd used and expanded upon the earlier analysis."

The older man sat there his mouth working in disbelief.

Merlin asked, "Have you ever watched our actual tailor's work? Seen how they put those fine suits together?"

"Why the hell would I have done that?"

"Of course, you're not the type to care much about the lower ranks." He thought for a moment. "The chalk stripe on your sleeve is perfectly aligned with same stripe on your shoulder. They work hard, pay minute attention, for a suit. They take pride in their work, and they are the best for that reason. 

"You let the analysis division, arguably the most important one, work to a lesser ethic than a tailor would." He shook his head. "Get out of my office. Security is waiting to escort you from the building. Be relieved that we're not the Soviets. You and your senior staff would be escorted to a mass grave there."

***  
He'd run his ideas for training by the knights before taking them to Arthur. Most of the changes he wanted to implement had been approved without question. The only change Arthur had reversed was the dog test. He insisted it had to stay. Merlin reluctantly acquiesced.

Galahad was stepping off the shuttle with his candidate.

Merlin said, "You're late, Galahad. Have your candidate go to the dormitory."

He handed the clipboard to Galahad so he could record the young man's name. Merlin made two copies, put one in each secretary's inbox with a note to divide the list in half, and took a deep breath before entering the room.

"Fall in. You are about to embark on the most dangerous job application in the world."


End file.
